


Here in this Cafe

by tothemooon



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tothemooon/pseuds/tothemooon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He finds himself wondering who the boy is, what his likes and dislikes are and it isn't long before Louis has made up a small story in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here in this Cafe

**Author's Note:**

> Just a silly little one-shot I was working on instead of doing my homework because I like to procrastinate. It's based loosely on the song Marry Me by Train because it's been stuck in my head since the morning and well it turned to this and yeah.

Louis hates Monday.

No, not hates. More like absolutely loathes them. He’s often thought that if Monday were a person, he’d have killed them by now, slowly and violently, taking extra pleasure in torturing them until they beg for death, happily taking the death penalty after he’s done. Okay, maybe he’s being a bit dramatic-he tends to do that-but you get the idea.

And, as if he didn’t hate Monday’s enough, now he is stuck with the worst hangover known to mankind. It wasn’t as if he had intended to get drunk last night, not when he had an early morning class, it was just that he felt lonely, his flatmates all gone for the night-Zayn on a date and Niall with his girlfriend- and the bottle was there and _well_. But he’s starting to regret what seemed like a great idea last night because he feels as if his head is about to burst. At least he wasn't in the pub, he thinks to himself, because _that_ would have ended awkwardly, with him trying to get out whoever his drunk self had picked up out of the flat before the other two boys woke up.

He’s trudging after Zayn, who seems blissfully oblivious to his best mate’s agony, chippering on about some guy-Lenny or Lambert? Louis doesn’t really know-and his stupid smile and stupid brown eyes that you can _just get lost in_ and can’t he just shut up for _five_ _bleeding minutes_?

It takes him a full second to realise that Zayn has stopped talking and is looking at him expectantly, a mixture of amusement and annoyance in his hazel eyes. Louis pulls his beanie lower down his head, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “You didn’t hear a word I was saying, did you, Tomlinson?”

Now it’s Louis’ turn to roll his eyes. “Look, _Malik,_ I’m bloody tired and my head feels as if it’s gonna split in two, so you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not interested in your stupid date, as charming as he was.”

It’s just a sign of how close he is to Zayn, that the hazel-eyed boy doesn’t take offence where many others would, opting instead to smirk at Louis.

“You’ve really got to get fucking _laid_ , mate,” he says and Louis groans. “All that sexual frustration is getting to you.”

“Fuck off, Zayn,” he mutters and Zayn just laughs, ushering them into the tiny café Louis hadn’t even realised they were standing in front of.

“C’mon, let’s get you a cuppa. Might help with that bitchiness.”

They enter the small café and Zayn guides them to the counter, where he orders a chai latte for himself and an espresso for Louis, which causes him to wrinkle his nose because Louis has never been a fan of the strong drink, but he’ll do anything to get rid of this stupid hangover.

He lets his eyes wander around the café, taking in the small horde of students from the nearby college as they huddle over their textbooks, trying to cram everything down before their first class. His eyes fall on a boy sitting by himself, with a book propped up in front of him, sipping what Louis can only guess is a cup of tea. From where he’s standing, the boy seems quite fit and Louis lets himself appreciate the boy for a moment. His eyes roam from the boy’s face, which is partly covered by chocolate curls, down to his chest, where Louis can see the beginnings of what looks like a tattoo-and fuck, Louis has always had a thing for guys with tattoos-and further down under the table, where the boy’s long, _long_ legs are stretched out, crossed at the ankles.

He lets his gaze back up and his eyes meet green and he nearly jumps up in surprise. The boy is looking at him curiously, a small smile playing on his plump, rose-coloured lips as he cocks his head to the side, letting his eyes roam the expanse of Louis' body and he can feel a light blush spreading through his face. He turns away quickly, only to find Zayn looking at him curiously. He thrusts something into his hand-it takes Louis a full second to realise it’s his cup of coffee-before turning his neck just enough, so that he is able to see what Louis had been staring at.

He looks back at him with an all-too knowing smirk as he leads them away to a table close enough to the boy, much too close for Louis’ liking. Zayn takes the seat facing away from the boy-of course he does, the little shit-leaving Louis to take the seat facing Curly (by this point he’s tired of thinking about him as the boy and Curly seems like an appropriate nickname).

 “ _So_ ,” Zayn says, stretching out the ‘o’ more than necessary as he lounges back in his seat, a smirk playing on his lips as he looks from Louis to the boy sitting behind him.

And although he doesn’t say it, Louis knows exactly what he’s getting at and he just rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“No, Zayn.”

“What?” Zayn asks, feigning innocence, even as he smirks.

Louis narrows his eyes. “Don’t act smart with me, Zayn. I know what you’re thinking. And the answer is no.”

Zayn laughs, taking a sip of his drink. “Ah, c’mon, mate. Bloke seems fit enough. Good for one, maybe two shags, you know? Not asking you to date him or anything. Now, if you’re starting to swing for the _other_ team, then I recommend those lovely ladies over there.”

Zayn points somewhere to Louis’ left, sending the girls that had been ogling at them for the past few minutes a small wave and a grin that has them falling into a fit of giggles. Zayn turns his attention back to him, eyebrows raised.

“Although, if I were you, I’d go for the curly-haired lad. Have you seen his _lips_?” Zayn asks and no, Louis has _not_ seen them, thank you very much, and he is definitely _not_ thinking about them wrapped around his cock, either. Apparently, Zayn has the same idea, because he says, “I mean, they were _made_ for sucking cock, mate. And we both know how much you like that.”

And, fuck, Louis needs new friends, he swears, ones that haven't already walked in on him with his pants around his ankles and some random stranger kneeling in front of him-which is more or less the reason why he's stopped picking up one-night stands. Stupid Zayn and his horrible timing.

“Oh my god, _shut up_ , Zayn,” he groans at the memory, pulling on his beanie self-consciously as he throws a quick look at Curly’s direction to make sure he hasn’t heard Zayn and, much to his relief, the boy gives no indication that he has. At least he thinks he hasn’t; it’s hard to tell, when Curly’s face is hidden behind his book.

“Just saying, mate.”

Louis huffs under his breath, rolling his eyes. “How do you even know he’s gay?”

“Dunno,” Zayn smirks, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe it was the way he was looking at your bum as if it was one of God’s greatest creations?”

Louis can feel his face redden as he steals a glance at Curly again and Zayn’s smirk grows even wider. He stares at Louis for a moment, before an all too familiar grin is spreading through his face and shit if Louis doesn’t know what that means. Before he knows it, Zayn is standing up from his seat, making a big deal out of it as he does so, getting the attention of half the café, but most importantly, of Curly. He’s looking at them curiously and shit if Louis doesn’t wish he could just disappear right now.

Louis definitely needs new friends and he makes a mental note to find new ones, right after he’s murdered Zayn, of course.

“Well, will you look at the time, mate? I’d _love_ to stay and chat, but I promised I’d meet Liam before our first class.”

Before Louis can hiss at him to sit his arse back down, or announce that he’s leaving, too, Zayn is already walking away, backwards mind you, giving Louis an impish grin.

“See you, later, mate. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he says with a wink, looking pointedly between him and Curly.

As if he hadn’t made his point, Zayn points between the two, before giving Louis a thumbs-up and it’s a miracle Louis’ face hasn’t set itself on fire, with the way it’s burning hot. He slides down in his seat as he pulls his beanie as down as it’ll go, adamantly ignoring the probing gaze of the curly-haired lad.

He stares determinedly at the cup of coffee grasped in his hands and when he finally finds the courage to look up, Curly has gone back to reading and he can swear there is a small smile playing on his lips and, for some odd reason, Louis’ stomach does a somersault.

 _Control yourself, Tomlinson,_ he scoffs at himself, because he is _not_ a teenage girl and there is no way his heart is stammering in his chest as the boy looks up again briefly, as if he can feel Louis’ gaze on him and yeah, he’s definitely smiling. He looks back down at his book again and it takes Louis a minute to compose himself because _dimples._ The boy has fucking _dimples_ and shit if that isn’t the cutest thing Louis has ever seen.

He finds himself wondering who the boy is, what his likes and dislikes are and it isn’t long before Louis has made up a small story in his head, because aspiring writer, hello. He finds himself wondering what a life with Curly would be like, if he had the courage to actually go over and say something. It’s not hard to imagine the feeling of the boy’s lips on his, as well as on _other_ places-Louis can’t help himself; he’s only human. He’s well on his way on planning their wedding and honey-moon and the house with the large maple tree and three children and a cat and dog-he’s an English major for a reason-when Curly closes his book, taking a last sip of his cup, before standing up.

And shit, no, Louis doesn’t want him to leave, he doesn’t even know his name, but Curly is already walking away, taking with him Louis’ chance. He stops momentarily by the door, looking directly at Louis until blue meets green and he grins widely and _no_ Louis’ heart did not just do that _thing_ again. And just like that, Curly is slipping out of the café and Louis’ life because he’s sure he’s not going to see Curly again and, fuck, why does Louis have to be such a coward?

He can already hear Zayn’s incredulous, “ _You let him go, mate? You really have to grow a pair, Lou.”_ and Louis is tired of being a coward, of having to use alcohol to feel brave and the-Zayn-in-his-mind is right, he really does have to grow a pair. Because, who knows, maybe it'll be different this time.Before he knows what he’s doing- it’s better that way, otherwise he’d chicken out-Louis is already standing up, his still-full cup of coffee left forgotten in the table.

He follows after Curly, determined to chase after him if he has to, but apparently it won’t be necessary, because he bumps into him as soon as he slips out the door, _literally._

 _“_ Oops,” Louis mutters as he takes a step back, looking up into a pair of green, green eyes, and shit, Curly is even prettier up close.

“Hi,” Curly says in a deep voice, smooth and slow as honey as he looks down at him, giving him a wide grin. And god, the dimples are back and holy shit, Louis’ forgotten how to _breathe._

“’M Harry,” the boy says, holding out a large hand that Louis is definitely _not_ imagining the way it would feel grasped around his tiny waist as he fucks him into oblivion (he so totally is).

He feels light all of a sudden as this radiant boy stares down at him and he quickly grabs onto the hand he’s offering him before he can float away.  There is a burst of butterflies exploding in his stomach and a surge of electricity cursing through his body as their hands meet, and Louis can’t help the smile that escapes him.

“Louis,” he says and he’s never been one to believe in love at first sight, but fuck, Louis can swear that this is what it feels like. He wonders if the boy feels it to, whatever this is; judging by Harry’s large grin, Louis thinks that, yeah, he totally feels it.

And it is there, outside of that coffee shop, with a world of possibilities floating around them that Louis thinks that, yeah, maybe Monday’s are not so bad after all.

(It’s not until a few weeks later, when Harry has Louis squirming and begging underneath him- after having kicked out Zayn and Niall, of course, a chorus of “ _Fucking finally”_ following after them-that Louis realises that Monday might _definitely_ be his new favourite day of the week.)

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos always make my day :)


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